


Never Enough

by chandlerinabox



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Consensual Underage Sex, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mild Gore, Minor Hange Zoë/Petra Ral, Minor Mikasa Ackerman/Armin Arlert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chandlerinabox/pseuds/chandlerinabox
Summary: 2 stories, intertwined with love, time travel, hell and each other...Love and Fate were out of our hands. Thus, Time was the only thing we had.(Act 1-High School Au, a plot to beat fate.)(Act 2-A bartenders Au, a plot to save love.)Levi/Eren, a 2 part story.





	Never Enough

On the corner of a cobbled street, in the shadows of the morning sun, stood a boy. He had a tiny frame, even for a boy of his young age; his arms the size of sewing needles one might find in an old age home. The cloth he wore resembled a ripped dress, it was the only thing he wore-his mother only ever had enough to buy scraps. His hair just brushed his shoulders, it was as untamed as a mane, yet it held a deep, jet black hue, matching the tones of his eyes. Leaning against a brick arch, the boy’s eyes flickered from family to families in the square before him.

It was the farmer’s market today, which meant that the beggars were shooed into the corridor that the arch guarded. It was also the boy’s single glimpse of outside life, save for the pile of bones that constituted the beggars and the men that barged into his house for time with his mother. She was the only warm thing in his cold, barren life, the only chance of survival of love in his life that he desperately clung to. She was the only one who looked at him with such affection-she never had the coldness of the visitors or the sneers of the beggars.

Right now, however, something had caught his eye.

It was a mother and her son, peering at a fruit stand.

They held hands, the mother contently laughing as the boy tugged at his mother’s hand. She had brown hair tucked into a side ponytail, her eyes were the color of emeralds. The thing that caught the watcher’s eyes the most, however, was a certain piece of attire. It was a low hanging scarf, tucked around his neck, the color of bright poppies in a field. It provided a sharp contrast to the watcher’s dull world.

The other never turned around once, leaving his face as a mystery. The boy’s stomach made a familiar _growling_ , so he made no haste in turning around, the glare of red never leaving his mind for a moment as he ran into the dark corridor of stone.

\--

Upon what the boy called ‘home’-a mere hole in the wall, roughly the size of an adult person laying down, with a sheet for a door, decorated with small flowers-he did not find his mother sitting outside for him as she liked to. The boy was not unintelligent; it simply meant mommy had another one of her special visitors over. She had a habit of sending him outside when they came over.

It was not the sights he occasionally saw in his nightmares that made them so frightening, it was the sounds he would hear outside of his home, the noises that would pierce his ears. It was so unfamiliar, and whenever he heard such sounds, he felt _revolted_ …even if they were soft in pitch. Those dreams were an abyss of vomit and hatred, filled with the echoes of such soft noises that didn’t match the hellish atmosphere, however they always managed to wrack the boy’s shivering body into spikes of fear.

They grew out of his head, his knees, and out of his toes. Nothing could stop these nightmares, save for the sudden shake of waking up.

The sheet rustled suddenly, and out stepped a broad shouldered man. The boy looked up, the man only meeting with his eyes for a split second. They were as cold as steel, as quiet as the night. There was no trace of dust or dirt that could be spotted on his stiff grey suit.

The man turned away and stalked out of the alleyway, leaving the boy by himself. The boy wasted no second rushing into the room and was immediately met with his mother’s arms wrapping around his frame. He looked up. His mother’s hair was in tangles, her stained dress unbuttoned. She looked him in the eye, a warm smile brightening her face.

_{It’s not clear if it was true happiness in her eyes, or a masked sadness}_

“Did you see the market today?” mommy whispered, ever so softly into his hair. Her arms remained tight around him.

“Yes I did, mommy. There was…” The boy exclaimed, but he was interrupted by a sudden wetness staining his cheeks.

There were tears falling out of his mother’s dark eyes.

The boy’s eyes widened in response, his senses heightened, but he had no idea what to do.

“It’s ok, just feeling happy for you because you were able to see such good places today!” She forced out a smile.

“Oh…”

Mommy chuckled. “Now then…it’s you bath time.”

“But you haven’t washed in a while, mommy!”

Mommy’s tears stopped. “No matter. It’s you who I want to be cleaned.”

The boy gave a silent sign. “Alright…”

“Alright. Now go get your bucket, and fill it with water from the puddle…and quickly!” The boy pulled out of his mother’s arms, nodding rapidly. He swiftly left, only a trace of coldness remained.

“Be back soon…Levi.”

\--

_Kenny Ackerman did not expect this…_

_…so soon._

 

_The scene that lay before him was one full of inhuman gore, enough to drive away everyone from the public square. There was a car, and below it, was the body of Kuchel Ackerman, her head was partially severed by the tire crushing her neck. Her arms were bent in a devil-like fashion, as if being possessed before death. Blood seeped onto the street. He could see the bones or her legs ripping through the skin. Her eyes remained wide open._

_A clock ticked in his head, and in an instant a bell began to rang. (A whore's life you live, the whore's death you get...Kuchel/A whore's life you lived...)_

_It did not pass by him that he would have to find **him** , before he found her like this. _

_Before ducking into a familiar alleyway (a vague memory passed through him, one of him scowling at the crying, dirty child wrapped in his other’s arms) , he took one last look at the car._

_It was a cerulean blue with an odd fixture or two. The driver was not very visible to him, save for a gleam of blond reflecting sunlight and the dim glow of a green dot._

_He would have to figure that one out later. Right now, he had to find the kid._

_But how could he find someone whose face he barely knew?_

\--

Levi stepped out from the sheet, whipping his head around frantically. He had heard cries from a nearby street, and he had wondered if his mommy had taken part-his heart thumped at the thought.

His heart beat increased until he locked eyes with a pair of glowing pupils, filled with hues of green and gold. Levi’s heart halted in his chest, his eyes fixated. The orbs were the only thing he could see, and were currently the only things keeping him from hitting the brick below him.

_Who the hell are you?_

Such words were often screeched by the beggars, yet they were deemed ‘unkind’ by his mother. They were the only words Levi found appropriate to think.

The eyes closed, and a dim, hazel light began to glow. Levi blinked, and it was all gone.

He found the air to be sucked out of his lungs when his feet were no longer touching the ground, the bricks suddenly becoming farther and farther and farther away as he was lifted up by a burly arm. He looked up, and saw the face above him: scruffy and unshaven, with lines of age etched into his face. A brimmed hat covered his eyes.

“ _Found you…Levi._ ” The voice was as rough as nails upon chalk.

Levi screamed.

**Author's Note:**

> I have been developing this fic idea for quite some time now...it'll take a while before the whole story is published.
> 
> That being said, buckle up-this fic is plot heavy, so it's gonna get rough. 
> 
> Enjoy this short yet (un)sweet beginning!


End file.
